


Mr. Perfect

by mousaerato



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Harassment, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Secret Crush, Self-Acceptance, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2020-05-13 14:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19253266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousaerato/pseuds/mousaerato
Summary: What everyone else wants.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DucklingExtravaganza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DucklingExtravaganza/gifts).



> I was asked by the person this is gifted to for "a fic about Akechi Goro coming to terms with being attracted to men, with a lot of angst." I hope that this meets your request.

“I think that’s him,” a breathy, nasal voice squeaked.

“Well,” another excited whisper urged, “go to him!”

Akechi Goro’s attention was focused with laser-precision on the manga held open with his right hand; his left hand carefully clutched the Harajuku-style _agepan_ he’d treated himself to after a day of exams. Moments of quiet – and dare he imagine it, _relaxation_ – were difficult to eke out, bitterly won, hard-earned treasures. The tension melted from the fibers of his muscles as his mind absorbed the matted words and images before him: an epic battle, the final confrontation, a stolen kiss –

“Akechi-kun!”

He couldn’t react fast enough to the squeal and patter of feet.

A warm, unwelcome mass collided into him, knocking his book to the ground with a thud. His left hand – his trigger fingers – squeezed at the fried, sweet bread, but not enough to salvage it. Whipped cream flew into his face and onto his pristine jacket; the bread itself flew into the air and landed unceremoniously onto the floor. Wiry limbs constrained him; he only had enough time to raise his arms, almost in surrender.

Reality rushed back to him against his will. The Charismatic Detective Prince cursed himself; it was his fault for thinking he could ever have a moment to himself.

“Ohmigod,” the brunette student with unkempt braided pigtails gushed, “it _is_ you!”

That familiar jolt of adrenaline coursed through Akechi Goro’s veins. Thankfully, he was used to how it worked against you in a crisis. A deep breath – as deep as he could manage – and a gulp.

“Do…I know you?” He offered cautiously, looking at the small form that was _far_ too close to him. Her eyes were bright yet glassy, and her skin was dull with lack of sleep. Did she take care of herself at all?

“I know _you,_ ” she retorted. “I…I love you so much!” Her face blanched, then reddened with a beet-like blush.

Every part of Akechi Goro’s being wanted nothing more than to disappear. His mind’s eye searched desperately for an answer – an exit – but the only thing he could find was a giggling, sneering classmate of his _obsessed_ fan. At least she didn’t have a phone – yet.

“Th-that’s, uh—”

“You smell _so good_ ,” the girl murmured. Goro’s stomach turned at the sound of it.

“Can you please not squeeze me so hard?”

Thankfully, the girl complied quickly, dropping him from her viselike grip. He breathed in relief and managed to take two steps back as he assessed the damage, passing over the fabric of his clothes with his gloved hands. He’d have to get this outfit dry cleaned -- as if he didn’t already have enough on his to-do list.

“I’m so sorry, Akechi-kun,” the bleary-eyed girl pleaded. “I just…I didn’t think I’d see you here!”

 _That’s a lie,_ Akechi thought darkly. _You followed me._ He laughed and gave a small smile, somehow too wide. “Well, I do have some secrets, I guess…”

Thankfully, the classmate watching them still had not pulled out her phone. Perhaps she was better at reading the room than her friend was. Somehow, the deranged girl sensed his trepidation. Her expression changed from flustered to crestfallen.

“Are you,” she offered meekly, “maybe seeing someone else?”

The Ace Detective had to think quickly. To lie would invite gossip and even scandal; to tell the truth would invite more of her molestation. Instead of speaking, Goro decided to play coy: he tightened his lips, moved his feet nervously, and stared down at his shoes. Hopefully, she’d give him something he could work with.

The girl gasped. “Oh my goodness. You’re interested in someone?! I…had no idea.” She backed away, apologetic and heartbroken. Playing with her plaits as if to soothe herself, she asked, “What’s…your type?”

For a young man so adept at planning ahead and strategizing, Akechi Goro’s mind suddenly went _blank._

 _A type? A girl?_ Why was he struggling to think of anyone? He’d seen plenty of girls – classmates, “teammates,” Sae-san – but they seemed insignificant to his memory. Not a one of them triggered any spark of an immediate response. _Who do I like?_

_Think. Focus! Anyone to get this psychopath away from me!_

“Risette,” he stammered. A name that meant nothing to him – she was a celebrity far above him, and a woman he’d never met.

The last bits of that awful, unwarranted _assault_ were lost to the detective. He had put on the armor and the mask of the polished, perfect gentleman: charming, polite, _seemingly_ empathetic, and dutiful. He gave that practiced, glossy smile, managed a few kind words, autographed his _stalker’s_ notebook, and made a beeline to the one place he felt safe under the guise of an “important appointment.” They understood – and swooned.

Even the path to his destination was automated after the entire incident. The people were faceless, amorphous obstructions: annoying, unnecessary, irrelevant. He knew the path by heart: Platform 5, _Hanzomon_ line towards Nagatsuta, 14 minutes. The cars were relatively empty for the mid-day; Goro was grateful for the small reprieve. Still, he focused on his phone in his lap, busying himself until he heard the magic word: “Yongenjaya.”


	2. Chapter 2

 Once the tiny bell stopped ringing and the rustic door closed behind him, Akechi Goro felt at peace. The mottled lights in LeBlanc emanated comfort; the smooth aroma of coffee and the pungent haze of spices warmed him from the inside out. His apartment was just that – a plain apartment, scattered with sparse basic living needs, a “house.” Akechi Goro had never had one, but something about the café felt like home. That never became more obvious than when he’d greet the young barista-in-training.

“Good afternoon,” the detective lilted, placing his suitcase on the floor and the manga he’d purchased earlier on the counter. A blithe smile found its way to his lips, and his eyes landed squarely on the bespectacled boy with the permanent black bedhead.

_Clink._

A sound broke the trance the detective seemed to have fallen into. Steam appeared before him, warming his face and filling his nostrils. He blinked, incredulous.

“You always order the same thing,” said Amamiya Ren. “Here.”

“Thank you.” Goro felt a strange mix of excitement and _shame._ Ren had come to know his preferences, and could even anticipate them without a comment or insult or second thought – but had Goro become _predictable_? How often had he actually visited here that he could know his regular order?

Goro took a sip as he travailed against the thoughts blossoming in his mind. The perfect balance of coffee, cream, and sugar only made it worse, he found. Was Ren observing him that much? Or was he just that good at his job? Both of those thoughts made him smile even more.

_Why am I…excited about this?_

“This is great, as usual,” Goro beamed. “Is the sugar new?”

“Just got it today,” Ren answered. Curious, Ren leaned closer, examining the cup – and the person holding it. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all!” Goro panicked. Did he sound like he was insulting him? “The coffee’s—”

“Not that.” Ren gazed at the other with concerned eyes. “You seem…out of it.”

After a tense silence, Ren finally asked, “Bad day?”

_How does he always know?_ Goro asked himself. _How does he know when I want to talk?_

Goro took a confident, deeper drink of the coffee. After his lips left the cup, he placed it back on the coaster with another _clink._ He sighed dejectedly and groaned, “I was at a bookstore and I got… _attacked._ ” Something about expressing that disdain, that discomfort, that _despair_ with that word was liberating to the straitlaced boy.

“A case?” Ren’s eyes narrowed – was he doing work on the Phantom Thieves?

“No, no,” Goro assured, waving a hand in Ren’s face. “Just…a fan.”

Ren _cringed_ in empathy. He was aware of the obsessive fan horror stories – magazines, online news, and forums were full of them. Frankly, he was surprised that no celebrities had made a request to the thieves at this point. He could only imagine what a media darling like Akechi Goro would deal with. “I see.”

“She was… _ugh.”_ Goro could barely contain his disgust. “She and a friend were following me in the store, and the next thing I knew she grabbed me.” Maybe ‘grabbed’ was the wrong word – it was a hug, after all – but to Goro, they were one in the same in that instance.

Almost breathlessly he continued, “She kept talking about how she was _so happy to see me,_ and that I _smelled good…_ and then asked if I was _seeing someone_ —”

The girl sounded like a creep to Ren’s ears – he’d seen a few in Mementos. “What’d you tell her?”

The words that flowed so effortlessly from Akechi Goro’s lively lips suddenly stopped cold. He hesitated, finally grinning at the other and teasing, “Oh? Are you going to give that answer to your ‘media contact?’”

“Just wondering how you got out of it. Sounds uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t _lie,_ ” Akechi boasted, “but I may have suggested I was interested in a certain model, maybe a singer.” He wasn’t really sure what Risette did these days. He took a confident swig of his coffee, savoring the extra hint of sugar that danced on his tongue.

“…Takamaki?” Ren ventured.

Goro’s lips twisted and his brows furrowed with confusion and intense thought. “No?” He didn’t mean to give his rebuttal an upward inflection, but he had never thought of Anne as _attractive._ She had admirable, maybe even attractive qualities – clever, compassionate, determined – but he never thought of her looks. He chuckled, compensating with a quick explanation. “I’d never violate her privacy like that.” Another gulp of his drink; anything to keep his mouth occupied.

Ren noticed how fast Goro finished his coffee and became _concerned._ Goro always seemed to… _savor_ his time in the café, taking his time with dainty sips between small talk under the glow of the old lights. It didn’t take a master thief with a supernatural vision to see it – Akechi Goro was _rattled._ He needed help.

“Are you busy tonight?” Ren asked.

“I’m caught up on all my work,” Goro cautiously offered – a lie.

“Let’s hang out somewhere.” Ren offered a faint smile.

Looking at that smiling face, Goro felt a thrill of excitement shimmer across his skin. He bit his lip, half anxious and half teasing, and asked, “When?”

“9 o’clock. Meet me here.”

“Is this baseball again?” Goro’s voice was playful, but challenging. He liked his competitions with Ren – there was something about it that animated him.

“No.” Amamiya Ren already knew just the place to relax without judgment or the worry about cameras or fans.

“Oh? Why don’t we leave now, then?” _Dammit,_ Goro chided at himself. _What’s gotten into me?_

“I need to finish my shift.” Ren gestured at the pile of coffee-stained cups and plates glazed with curry sauce.

Goro giggled. “I see. Well, what do I owe you for the coffee?”

Ren shook his head; he knew Goro needed a break. “It’s on me.”

Goro unseated himself and gave another enthusiastic smile. “Thank you again. This place really does have excellent service. See you later.”

And with that, Goro practically glided across the floor of the café and made a beeline to the door. He closed it so fast, the bell barely had a chance to ring. Was he really going to blow off homework and _Shido_ to go out to some unknown place? This was dangerous, foolish even – but the thought of being with someone who made him feel so at peace, far away from the adoring, predatory crowds was worth it.

Just this once. No older women commenting on his looks. No teenagers violating his space. Just one night with…a friend.


	3. Chapter 3

Akechi Goro stood in front of a long mirror in his mostly barren apartment, smoothing his hands over his argyle vest and giving himself the once over. He’d already showered, deep-conditioned his hair, blow-dried and styled it, and of course, did a quick toning and moisturizing routine for his face. The downside to being a public figure was that anywhere he went was a potential _trap_ for fans, so he couldn’t afford to look bad. Still, Ren had promised it would be a place he’d feel comfortable, and Goro knew that meant no sickening, stalking fans. Why was he so worried, then?

The thrill that encouraged him to preen and primp was _different_ this time. Instead of sinking into his bones like dread, the urge to look _good_ blossomed in his chest with delight. He angled his hips at the mirror, leaning in close to check his teeth and brows. Having food stuck in his teeth or any unnecessary hairs on his face was _unacceptable –_ he had to impress. Once he was satisfied with his review, Goro nodded, took a deep breath, and took his phone from his pocket to check the time. Ren had said 9 PM, so…

_8:45 PM._

Goro bit at his lower lip and contemplated. It would take him five, maybe seven minutes to get to LeBlanc. Would it be rude to show up early? After all, he didn’t want to waste Ren’s time if he already had plans –

“What am I _doing_?” The brown-haired boy shook his head, annoyed with himself. He’d met with Ren plenty of times for curry, coffee, baseball, crepes. There was no reason _this_ would be any different. He’d sought solace in the café’s cozy, quiet atmosphere more than once without any issue or anxiety.  The front stool, warm food, and patient barista were practically home to him – there was _no reason_ to be nervous.

Still, the detective racked his brain over _where_ his Watson planned to take him. A movie theater would certainly give them enough _cover_ not to be noticed, and couples were generally too busy with each other to care about anyone else—

Akechi Goro choked on his own thoughts. The world “couple” sounded strange to his own cognition, but somehow, it had found its way into his mind. _Well, two people is a couple,_ he rationalized.

No matter. The only way he would find out what was in store was to stop worrying and _get to the café._ So, he grabbed a bottle of cologne from his bedroom, gave a quick spritz, and made a bee-line to the door. He _couldn’t_ be late.

* * *

“So, where are we going?” asked Goro as he leaned into the café from the doorway. He smiled, eyes focused on the boy at the end of the room. Ren looked quite different from his normal work attire or school uniform: he had on a beige v-neck, a white long-sleeved jacket, _nice_ jeans, and respectable leather shoes. His hair was still a bird’s nest, but _composed,_ somehow. And it was obvious to Goro that Ren had cleaned up his glasses –

_Wow. He looks nice._

Ren approached his friend with casual strides. “You didn’t figure it out, detective?”

The question felt like a jab to the chest. Put on the defensive, Goro responded, “I didn’t know this was a challenge you’d set for me.” He couldn’t disappoint.

“I just thought you’d try.”

“Ah, I have too much work already.” He laughed, holding the door open for Ren as they both exited the café. “So, where’s this place nobody will know me?” Before he could stop, he added, “Kidnapping me isn’t a good idea.”

“Somewhere low-key,” Ren answered, still walking toward the subway station.

_That_ threw him off. “What?” _Did he know?_

“You’ll see.”


	4. Chapter 4

While Akechi Goro was more than able to defend himself, the seediness of the dark streets he walked with his date friend made him feel ill at ease. A kaleidoscope of neon colors spewed from bright signs, illuminating the grime caked onto the cement and asphalt. An anxious, secretive energy buzzed around them: scantily-clad women in high heels fawning in shrill voices to male passers-by, flickering street lights in disrepair from neglect, music played too loudly from cell phones, and vice was advertised in luminous signage. Even the smell of the place was noxious, with a tint of unusual smog. Shinjuku was not a place for the pristine, effete Detective Prince – not by a longshot.

As he silently followed Ren’s lead, Goro allowed himself a moment to parse what was happening. A strange excitement bloomed in his chest – there was something almost _flattering_ about Ren taking him somewhere so contrary to his reputation after what had happened. Celebrity was a necessity and a _job –_ when he was with Ren, he could finally relax and breathe. This place didn’t give a damn about his so-called status. Sure, there was the _threat_ of being seen, but somehow, he trusted Ren’s judgment. He wouldn’t hurt him.

Ren stopped at a business with a well-lit, rosy-pink sign that read “BAR CROSSROADS.” The detective quirked an eyebrow. Teasingly, he asked, “What makes you think we’ll be _allowed_ in here?”

Without missing a beat, Ren responded as he gestured to the stairs. “I work here sometimes. Come on.”

Goro did as he was told, following with Ren up the old, dusty stairwell. While it made sense that a barista could do well at an establishment like a bar, it still struck the detective as strange. It seemed he worked all the time: LeBlanc, the flower shop, Untouchable, and now this “Crossroads” place. Did Ren _ever_ have time to himself?  As that thought sparked through the boy’s mind, another more secretive thought emerged: _this is really special then if he’s always working so much. His time is valuable._ Something about that realization made him feel warm inside.

Ren opened the door for him – so polite, Goro thought – and there it was. Framed within a shocking neon red heart, it was unavoidable: _WELCOME LOVE._

Goro couldn’t pull his eyes away from it. What did this mean? Did Ren set this up? Was this actually a dat—

Ren was already seated in a plush purple seat at the bar. “Come on, sit down,” he urged, breaking the chaos that played through Goro’s head.

“Alright,” said Goro, shaking his head and smiling back. He chose the seat directly to Ren’s right side. The bartender approached, nodding with a warm smile to Ren. “Good to see you.” Her voice was husky, with a touch of a smoker’s rattle, but kind and sincere. There was something about her – the way she dressed with such pride and obvious disregard for what others thought – that he admired. Goro was starting to see why Ren picked this place.

Ren gestured to Goro. “This is my friend,” he explained, “he needed a place to relax after a rough day.”

She pivoted to Goro and smiled to him. “Very nice to meet you. I’m Lala.”

_What if she knows who I am?_  Goro stumbled, “I, uh—”

“I already know who you are,” she soothed. “You’re Ren’s friend.” After years of working in this business, she knew when people didn’t want too many questions.

Relief played across Akechi Goro’s features. This was a safe place: quiet, only the three of them, and where he wouldn’t be asked questions or _found._ Who would have thought a place in the _Red Light District_ could be such an oasis?

“Now,” Lala started as she tapped the bar lightly, “I don’t serve alcohol to minors, but I _will_ serve you something without alcohol.” She glanced at Ren and asked, “What would you like?”

He knew exactly what Crossroads stocked. “Kirin, please.”

Goro, feeling brave, decided to indulge himself. This was a place he could relax. “Do you have melon soda?”

Lala giggled with joy. “I do, and I’ll even put a cherry in it for you.” With that, Lala excused herself to get their drinks.

“So she’s your boss, huh?” asked Goro.

“Yeah. She keeps this place welcoming.”

“She’s quite shrewd,” Goro mused, “she knew not to ask who I was.”

“She says this is a place to relax. It’s better to just listen than ask too many questions. What happens here stays here.”

The brown-haired boy felt his heart _thump_ in his chest at that remark. “You’re…incredibly thoughtful.”

Lala brought their drinks and placed them on the bar with a _clink._ For Ren, it was dark glass bottle of a non-alcoholic beer; for Goro, it was an elegant round glass with ice, green bubbly soda, and the cherry that was promised. The courteous bartender even added a bubblegum pink _straw._ The two thanked her generously, and Goro took a quick sip of his drink.

“I love this stuff,” he said as he barely hid his enthusiasm with another sip, “It’s _really_ good, but I can’t really drink it in public. It’s…childish.” A tinge of disgust tainted that last word.

“You think so?” Ren looked at Goro, curious. He knew the detective had to be image conscious, but even with _drinks_?

“I wouldn’t be taken seriously by adults if they knew I still liked this stuff.”

“They’re ridiculous,” Ren practically _spat._

Goro huffed out a laugh. “They really are.”

Lala could sense that Goro wanted and needed to unload. She interrupted, asking in a gentle voice, “Stressful work?”

Goro glanced over at Lala to respond, but moved to address both her and Ren. “ _Very,_ ” he confessed. “I like… _most_ of what I do, and it has some benefits, but…”

Ren listened intently as he took a swig of the beer. Goro wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he knew from their times together that still waters ran deep with him. Still, the honesty in Goro’s voice was _striking._ Morgana had warned Ren and the others that Goro wasn’t trustworthy – just what parts of his job didn’t he like?

The detective took another sip of his soda. “Do you ever feel like you’re _performing_?”

Ren answered with a chuckle. “Sometimes.”

“I wanted to be a detective, not a celebrity.” That was half-true – he wanted _attention_ and _money,_ certainly, but the side effects of his status felt suffocating at times. “Sometimes I don’t want to worry about how I’ll look to people for what I do.”

“Do you want to quit?” Pity never worked with Goro, but challenging him did.

“Do you _think_ I want to?” Goro’s brows furrowed; he was almost offended.

“No,” Ren retorted as he took another drink, “but if you do, I’ll win.”

“That’s not how that works and you know it,” Goro snapped back. “You can’t win if you don’t _fight._ ”

“Then keep fighting.”

Goro hissed through clenched teeth, then sighed. “You’re _right.”_

“Still rattled from that girl earlier?”

Goro’s voice was animated. “I’ve gotten gifts and letters, but I’ve never had someone actually _grab_ me.” He paused, as if realizing something. “I could have arrested her, maybe, but—”

“But then you’d have to touch her.”

“Exactly. Maybe she _wanted_ to get arrested.” The boy shuddered minutely.

“That’s one weird way to get attention, I suppose.”

Lala shook her head, obviously sympathizing with her new guest. “Well, there’s no schoolgirls here. I haven’t been in school in years.”

Ren couldn’t help but laugh; even Goro managed a giggle at that one. Lala continued, “Any music preferences?”

Before Goro could even speak, Ren already knew what he wanted. “Jazz, if possible.”

“Good taste.”

Soon enough, the hole-in-the-wall establishment was filled with smooth, ambient sound. Goro luxuriated in it and continued, “I have enough on my plate with school and work. I don’t want to think about girls.”

As those words fell from his lips, an anxious tremor ran through Goro’s body. Something about saying that sentence felt like a breath of air after being underwater: abrupt, relieving, and _necessary._ If he was being honest with himself, he’d rather just spend his downtime like this: in cafés, listening to good music, maybe going to a batting cage, playing chess—

Every time he imagined it, Ren was by his side, just as he was now. There was something comforting about it – if only he could keep doing it forever.

“You don’t have to think about that tonight,” Ren added. “We can stay here. There’s a dart board too.”

Was it Goro’s imagination, or did Ren _really_ pick this out just for him?


End file.
